Peter Tremayne - A Prayer for the Damned

Eadulf raised his eyebrows for a moment as she moved towards the door. ‘You don’t want him sent for?’

Fidelma glanced back. ‘He is an abbot and is entitled to a little more dignity in treatment than Brother Drón.’

As they left the library to find Abbot Augaire, they were halted in the corridor by an earnest-looking young man. He was well dressed, of average height, with carefully groomed sandy hair and features that, while not of themselves unpleasant to look upon, were formed into an expression which forced the word ‘conceit’ to come to Fidelma’s mind.

‘I believe that you are Sister Fidelma?’ he demanded, the voice inquisitorial as if he were interrogating her.

Fidelma faced him with a grave smile. ‘I am Fidelma of Cashel,’ she said gently, reminding him of her other rank. It was a trick of hers that she only used when she felt someone was trying to be overbearing with her. ‘And this is Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’

Even had the stranger been sensitive to this warning sign, he chose to ignore it.

‘Just so. When will you be ready with your defence? We cannot delay long and keep the Chief Brehon and the High King waiting.’

Fidelma’s eyebrows arched a little in her surprise at the question and she glanced at Eadulf. He grimaced at her to indicate his amusement at the man’s officiousness. She turned back to him.

‘And you are?’ she asked with icy sweetness and a slight smile.

The man blinked as if astonished that the question should be asked of him. ‘I am Ninnid, of course.’

Fidelma’s smiled broadened.

‘Of course,’ she replied gravely.

‘No need to apologise,’ went on the man in a confident tone.

‘I was not. .’

Ninnid waved his hand in dismissal. ‘We have not met, of course, so I suppose you would not recognise me.’

Eadulf had turned away to hide his face. He seemed to be trying to stifle a cough. Then he turned back, frowning as though trying to remember something.

‘Ninnid? Ninnid? I seem to have heard the name before.’

Fidelma was also trying to keep her face straight.

‘There was a Ninnid Lámhderg who was ode of the disciples of the Blessed Finnian of Clonard,’ she suggested.

‘But this young man is not old enough to have known Finnian, for surely he has been dead a century or more?’ replied Eadulf gravely.

Ninnid was clearly someone without humour for his face was irritated.

‘I am Ninnid the brehon of Laigin,’ he explained.

‘Oh.’ Eadulf put on a patronising smile. ‘You are surely young to be a brehon, even of Laigin.’

The young man looked uncertain yet he seemed not to know that he was being humorously rebuked for his arrogance. Fidelma realised that if he did not understand that, then it was pointless continuing the exercise.

‘What is it you wish, Ninnid?’ she asked seriously.

‘I am ready to prosecute Muirchertach,’ the brehon replied. ‘Are you prepared to defend him?’

‘I shall be ready to do so, but only after I have investigated the circumstances fully.’

‘No need. I have already done so. There is a case for Muirchertach to answer. The facts are clear and there are eyewitnesses. All you have to do is relay to the court what reason in mitigation Muirchertach has to offer.’

Fidelma swallowed hard. ‘Are you telling me what I, as a dálaigh , should do?’

Ninnid did not seem to recognise the warning tone in her voice.

‘I am sure that you would appreciate some advice from someone with experience of these matters,’ he replied calmly.

‘Really?’ Fidelma retained her temper with an obvious effort. ‘With due respect, no witness saw Muirchertach actually stab Abbot Ultán.’

Ninnid made a curious cutting gesture with his hand as if dismissing the protest. ‘The law accepts circumstantial evidence.’

Eadulf frowned at the unfamiliar term. To him the basic word imthoicell was an act of encompassing or encircling. It took him some moments, putting it with the word for evidence, to arrive at the idea of what ‘encircling evidence’ meant.

Ninnid was continuing. ‘If the suspect is seen acting in a manner that appears to incriminate him, this evidence may be acknowledged. Muirchertach was seen fleeing from Abbot Ultán’s room. .’

‘Fleeing?’ snapped Fidelma.

‘That is what the eyewitnesses saw and we have another witness who will say that for many years Muirchertach was in enmity with Abbot Ultán because. .’

Fidelma held up her hand. ‘We know the circumstances.’

Ninnid smiled condescendingly. ‘Then I admire you for agreeing to make a defence. Naturally, should Muirchertach plead provocation, I will consider his arguments. However, I have to tell you that it may be difficult due to the circumstances of the crime. It is clear that Abbot Ultán was violently attacked as he prepared for bed.’

‘There is no reason to suppose that Muirchertach will plead anything but total innocence,’ replied Fidelma firmly.

Ninnid actually chuckled. ‘When you have had more experience in these matters you will come to know that it is sometimes better to make a bargain over one’s degree of guilt. I would suggest as much to Muirchertach if I were in your place.’

‘Thank you for the benefit of your advice,’ Fidelma said coldly.

‘I am always willing to advise,’ replied the other obliviously.

‘It has been instructive speaking to you, Ninnid,’ Eadulf intervened hastily, seeing the fiery glint in Fidelma’s eyes. ‘But you will excuse us. .’

They began to move off but Ninnid stayed them again.

‘You have not answered my question,’ he protested mildly.

Fidelma turned back sharply. ‘What question was that?’

‘Why, when I can instruct the Chief Brehon Barrán to start the trial proceedings.’

Fidelma was quiet for a moment but Eadulf made an inarticulate sound that he again covered by a fit of coughing. Then she spoke quietly.

‘You’ll forgive us, Ninnid, but we have many things to do. Have no fear, when I am ready I shall let Barrán be advised and then he can instruct you as to when he will start the proceedings.’

They hurried down the corridor. Eadulf was still chuckling.

‘Beati pauperes spiritu,’ he laughed, quoting the Gospel of Matthew. Blessed are the poor in spirit.

Fidelma indulged in a mischievous grin.

‘Our friend Ninnid is not so blessed,’ she replied. ‘I doubt if I have ever met such a colossal ego.’

‘Perhaps the defence of Muirchertach will not be so difficult after all with such a pompous idiot prosecuting,’ Eadulf suggested.

‘Do not build your sty until the litter is born,’ she replied, quoting an old proverb.

Eadulf shrugged. ‘You think that there is some talent hidden in that pomposity?’

‘You do not become brehon, even of Laigin, without some talent for law and good sense. Remember that Barrán himself recommended Ninnid because of his success as a prosecutor. Perhaps Ninnid merely dons the cloak of someone without humility to force his opponents into a false sense of superiority and then, when they are in such a vulnerable state, he will strike.’

‘Could he be that clever?’

‘We should never take things for granted. That is what I am saying. There is an old saying — things do not always end as we expect.’

From Caol, still looking chagrined at the belief that it was his failure to supply a guard which had led to the murder, they discovered where the guest chamber of Abbot Augaire was situated and made their way there.

The abbot himself opened the door to their discreet knock.

‘Abbot Augaire, I trust we do not disturb you?’